Fresh Air
by Not Days but Knights
Summary: After Sulu and Chekov get into a bit of trouble during downtime, Kirk decides that some fresh air at Yosemite National Park would serve a world of good.  The crew sets off for relaxation, and finds fish, campfires and unexpected romances. K/B/S, Sulu/Chek
1. A Small Trip

_Author's Note: This story was co-authored by Not Days but Knights and KettleAndString. We do not own the rights to any Star Trek related titles, names, ideas, etc. nor is this written for profit._

_Enjoy!_

Chapter One: A Small Trip

_Captain's Log: Stardate 2267.6. Having just escaped an entanglement with Klingons and their furry tribble nemeses, the crew has been feeling a bit restless. I, too, have felt a bit more exhausted than usual, but we will carry on as we always do. Now our mission is much simpler than Klingons and tribbles: we are awaiting orders from Starfleet. And so, we wait._

Sulu was growing impatient. His fingers drummed restlessly on the _Enterprise_'s control panel as he awaited orders from Captain Kirk. Although he was quite relieved that there weren't any more tribbles crawling about the bridge, he had to admit that he missed having a source of excitement. Now, the bridge felt static, quiet and dull.

Pavel Chekov, his friend and co-pilot, made a sudden movement on Sulu's right. Sulu turned to see what Chekov was up to only to be disappointed at the sight of Chekov scratching his nose. Shaking his head slightly, he turned back to stare at the buttons on the control panel, which were mocking him with their blinking lights.

"Well," the small ensign's voice broke the stale air, "at least there aren't any of those… tribbles on the bridge anymore." He chuckled awkwardly.

"Yes," Sulu replied good-naturedly, glad to have something to distract him, "though the Captain still seems a bit wary every time he sits down…"

They laughed quietly to themselves for a few moments and then trailed into silence again. _This is madness, _Sulu thought, _sitting here for no good reason_.

After a moment, Sulu turned to his friend and said in a low, conspiratorial tone, "Hey, what do you say we take a bit of a cruise? It's not as if we have anywhere to go…"

Chekov gave him a puzzled look. "But…surely the Captain will notice? And he hasn't given us any orders…I do not think that is a good idea."

Sulu let out an exasperated sigh. "Come on, Pavel. Spock and Dr. Mccoy are with the Captain in his quarters, and you know they won't be back for a while. I'm tired of just sitting here waiting for orders."

Chekov looked glumly at the control panel. The bright lights, the low hum of the computers – everything suddenly seemed inviting. It was so easy just to start the low-impulse thrusters… He glanced nervously at Uhura behind him; she seemed to be the only one with something to do. She was quickly pressing buttons, flipping switches; listening intently for a sound or source of action. Relieved, Chekov turned back to Sulu and smiled nervously.

"Well…maybe for just a small trip…"

Sulu grinned. The sense of motivation that had been drained from him rose in his fingertips. "Thrusters at the ready," he said, tapping the control panel. Immediately he felt the Enterprise's engines whir below him and watched the viewer as the stars pulled away from him.

He looked over at Chekov again, and was glad to see that his friend was also enjoying their brief joyride. As cautious as Pavel could be, Sulu knew that he had a healthy sense of adventure. _Perhaps that's why we get along so well, _Sulu thought.

Suddenly, Mr. Scott's voice crackled through one of the communicators: "Captain? Is there any particular reason why the engines have increased their power? We're moving at .4 warp."

Sulu and Chekov froze for a moment and exchanged a horrified look. Sulu felt a twinge of guilt; it would be his fault if the Captain blamed Chekov for Sulu's little act of disobedience. Scotty's call remained unanswered. Sulu heard Uhura turn around in her chair behind him, and his heart raced slightly.

Uhura looked at her friends, confused. She had felt the ship move and heard the roaring of the engines over her communicator. Her sharp hearing had given her a knack for detecting trouble. Slowly, she rose from her seat and approached the Captain's chair.

"Hello? Hello?" Scotty's voice rang anxiously from the engine room over the communicator.

"Hello, Scotty," Uhura said. She looked at Chekov and Sulu's backs, watching as their fingers moved nimbly across the control panel, their shoulders hunched suspiciously low. "Lieutenant Uhura speaking. The Captain is still with Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy in his quarters. I'm looking into our change in velocity, stand by."

"What do you two think you're doing?" she demanded.

Slowly, both Sulu and Chekov turned in their chairs to face Uhura. Neither pilot responded. Chekov's face was turning a shade of bright red and he was hunched low in his seat, his eyes on the floor. Sulu was wearing a sheepish grin that looked as though it had been poorly plastered onto his face. Uhura raised one eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

"We were just taking a little trip," Sulu said dismissively. "It's been a bit quiet around here, and so we thought: what would it hurt to make things a bit more interesting?"

"A bit more interesting! A bit more _interesting?" _They looked to see an outraged Dr. McCoy emerging from the elevator with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock close behind. "So what you're saying is that having our _entire ship_ infested with asexually reproducing balls of fluff wasn't _interesting_ enough for you, Mr. Sulu? Is that what I'm to understand here?"

"Calm down, Bones, I'll handle this," Kirk said quietly, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. Spock stood serenely at the entrance to the bridge, observing impassively as always. Sulu and Chekov turned slowly towards the front of the bridge as their Captain strode over to the control panel to face them. Though Sulu's grin had faded, he still felt a strange sense of calm. When he looked over to Chekov, however, he saw that his friend was utterly terrified. Sulu prepared himself to speak first, knowing that he must take responsibility for the incident. As he opened his mouth, however, Chekov had already begun to speak.

"Sir, we were— I thought maybe—" Chekov struggled with speech, torn between telling the truth and protecting his friend.

"Yes, Mr. Chekov?" Kirk turned his head slightly with a bemused smile.

Sulu tried to speak, but once again Chekov was too quick. "Captain, we were—we wanted to…" Chekov took a deep breath: "We wanted to take a small trip and we thought you wouldn't notice and we thought perhaps it would not matter and it was my idea and we are very, very, sorry, Captain." The words had come pouring out of him like a life-changing confession. Yet it wasn't really a confession: it was mostly a lie.

Sulu stared at his friend, amazed. Pavel Chekov, obedient, upstanding, loyal Pavel Chekov was taking the blame for Sulu's stupid idea! Now his calm had completely dissipated, replaced by an overwhelming sense of guilt.

The Captain frowned and stared down at the young ensign. "A little _trip_, Mr. Chekov?"

"Yes, Captain," he replied quietly.

"Mr. Sulu, is this correct?"

Sulu felt his eyes widen despite himself. He found himself in a moral conundrum: telling the truth now would get Chekov in trouble for lying, but telling Chekov's lie would still get _Chekov_ in trouble. Chekov had boxed himself in, and in doing so, had left Sulu trapped, too. So much for taking the fall!

"Yes, it's true, Captain." He felt utter shame for sealing his friend's fate, but was helpless regardless. He heard Chekov take a short, harsh breath, but refused to look his friend in the eye. Sulu had the impression that Chekov's fury was boring holes into the side of his head.

"Well, Mr. Sulu and Mr. Chekov, I hope you understand that on some Starships, disobeying direct orders could be interpreted as an act of mutiny," Kirk said, his frown deepening.

"Mu—mu—_mutiny_, Captain?" Chekov stammered, aghast. Sulu swallowed, leaving a dry feeling in his mouth. His palms suddenly felt sweaty against the control panel, but he couldn't muster the courage to open his mouth or even to wipe his hands.

"Yes, Mr. Chekov. However, in this case, I know that neither of you have mutinous intentions. Far from it. In fact, I believe that both of you are merely in need of some distraction, just like the rest of us. I think this would be a wonderful time for the crew to be granted shore leave, don't you agree, Mr. Spock?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Captain, do you really think granting shore leave is the wisest response to this situation? We are still awaiting orders from Starfleet Command, and I believe that Mr. Sulu and Mr. Chekov's infraction is not one to be taken lightly."

"Oh, come now, Spock," Dr. McCoy said dismissively. "Shore leave is just what we all need right about now. I'm sure even _you_ would benefit from some time off."

"Although it is against my better judgment, I must admit that it is logical to take shore leave between assignments—"

"Well, then it's decided!" Kirk said brightly. "I've been looking at journals for vacation spots on Earth. I think it's time that we tried our hand at camping. I've read that Yosemite National Park is perfect for that. What do you say, Mr. Spock?"

Spock paused for a moment, apparently pensive. "The United States National Park System has existed for over 400 years. It is an exemplary sample of human culture and survivalism. Founded by President Theodore Roosevelt, it is home to a diverse array of wildlife and wildflower—"

"And is a great way to get the green-blooded hobgoblin to be quiet for once," Dr. McCoy said with a smirk. "I'm in."

"Very well then, Yosemite it is," the Captain said, delighted. "Mr. Sulu, set a course for Earth. Mr. Spock, notify the rest of the crew that they will be taking their shore leave sooner than expected."

As Kirk sat down confidently in the Captain's chair, Sulu could only keep his head low and focus on setting the course for Earth. He wanted to say something – anything – to Chekov, but when he turned to him and saw a stony expression on his face, he knew that was out of the question.


	2. Setting Up Camp

Chapter Two: Setting Up Camp

Sulu was dreading his last mealtime on the Enterprise before shore leave. He knew it meant that he would have to try to speak with Chekov again. The two pilots had sat beside each other in heavy silence since the incident earlier that day. Sulu wanted to say something, to apologize to Chekov or to thank him for taking the blame. Even though neither of them had been punished for their disobedience, Sulu knew that being publicly reprimanded by the Captain had seriously hurt Chekov's pride. As much as he wanted to approach Chekov, he knew that it wasn't going to be an easy exchange, and that intimidated him. Sulu was not one for interpersonal conflicts, but it was important that Chekov understood that he never meant for him to take responsibility for Sulu's reckless plan.

Chekov rose from his seat and strode stiffly to the elevator before Sulu could even turn around. Quickly, almost impulsively, Sulu chased after Chekov. He managed to leap into the elevator moments before the doors closed, leaving him alone with Chekov in the stiflingly small space. He leaned back against the wall, keeping himself as far from Chekov as possible.

"Pavel," Sulu said urgently.

"What is it, Hikaru?" Chekov said haughtily, glaring at Sulu.

"Well, uh…I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry about before…" he said lamely. "I didn't want you to take the blame for it…"

"Well, perhaps you should have thought of that before you asked me to help you disobey the Captain," Chekov said coolly.

Sulu repressed a sigh: of course Chekov would predominantly be upset about disobeying Kirk. "I'm sorry, all right? I didn't realize it would turn out like this. Maybe I should have known, but maybe _you_ shouldn't have lied to the Captain and made things more complicated!"

Chekov's face was turning a dangerous shade of red. "_I _complicated things? _I _wasn't the one who thought of the stupid idea in the first place!"

Sulu had tried to remain in control of the situation, but clearly things were starting to get out of hand. He angrily hit the elevator's stall button. "What was _stupid_ was that you didn't even give me a chance to keep you out of trouble!"

"What is _really_ stupid is that you do not understand that I was trying to help!" Chekov exclaimed, hitting the stall button forcefully so that the elevator began to descend again with a lurch.

Sulu moved closer to Chekov and grabbed his shoulder, but as he opened his mouth to respond, the elevator doors opened suddenly to reveal a confused Dr. McCoy.

He looked back and forth between the two men, glancing briefly at Sulu's hand on Chekov's shoulder, and exclaimed exasperatedly, "Who's holding up the elevator?"

Sulu's hand shot back to his side and he hurriedly exited the elevator, shooting Chekov a parting glance. As he turned the corridor, he knew that his face revealed his fury and embarrassment, but he carried on.

_Captain's Log: After hours of packing, organizing and preparing, the crew and I are ready to take our shore leave at the famous Earth location of Yosemite National Park. The crew has become temperamental and restless, at least according to Dr. McCoy, who told me of a small fight between Mr. Sulu and Mr. Chekov that occurred in the bridge elevator. At any rate, it'll be refreshing to leave the _Enterprise _for our week of shore leave. We have beamed down to the historic entrance of the park – centuries ago, the road was used for silver miners. _

The sign for Tioga Pass was wooden, with white painted lettering – quite out of place in comparison to the modern 23rd century technology that Sulu was accustomed to. He felt slightly uneasy in his civilian clothes, weighed down by his rucksack and a sense of lingering bitterness from his fight with Chekov. The cold wind of the Sierra environment seemed to blow right through him, and Sulu couldn't help but feel that it was a sign of what was to come. He felt his communicator at his side, considering it a source of comfort in the face of the wilderness. Although he was used to pitching tents, making fires with limited resources and the overall challenge of surviving in an unknown environment, the idea of doing it for relaxation and fun was strangely unsettling.

Sulu strode up to Chekov and stood awkwardly beside him, fidgeting with the straps on his rucksack. The _Enterprise_ crew was awaiting a park shuttle that would take them to Tuolumne Meadows, the campground where they would spend their shore leave.

Chekov seemed too interested in the wildflowers at his feet. Sulu suspected that this newfound interest in local horticulture was not entirely genuine, but he couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't sound accusatory.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it?" Uhura's voice broke the awkward silence that permeated throughout the crew. Everyone nodded silently. Kirk bounced on the balls of his feet, anxious to set up camp. Sulu glanced down the line of his comrades. Spock was wearing his uniform, minus all rank insignia, and was sporting a stoic gaze that clashed with the joyous atmosphere; McCoy was in jeans, wearing his usual expression of glum concern; Uhura looked bright and cheerful, particularly alongside Scotty, who was wearing the traditional fisherman's garb of a hat full of hooks and a khaki vest. Chekov stood stiffly in his favorite leather outfit, arms folded.

The silence among the crew continued until the shuttles brought them to the campground. Kirk cheerfully began to return everyone's supplies.

"Well, welcome, everyone," he said. "Dr. McCoy, Spock and I will be pitching our tent here," he said, gesturing a few meters in front of them. "Go ahead and set up camp."

He sauntered off, carrying his own rucksack. Bones simply stood with his hands on his waist, staring at his backpack on the ground. Spock looked at him, slightly puzzled.

"Will we be following Jim?" he asked. "I expect that he will need assistance setting up the tent."

"Oh, we'll be following him, all right," Dr. McCoy finally responded, stooping down to pick up his bag and beginning to walk towards Kirk. "Follow him to our graves," he muttered. Spock cocked his head slightly and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing and followed suit, leaving the rest of the crew in a circle of bags and dust.

An overwhelming sense of awkwardness came over Sulu. He realized that he didn't know who was going to share his tent. Normally he would approach Chekov without a second thought, but he knew this would be a dangerous idea. On the other hand, there really was no one else. Scotty had already strode off to pitch his tent, and Uhura had tagged along to set up her own nearby. He opened his mouth to speak to Chekov, only to see that he was about to address him.

"Well, come on," Chekov said. Sulu was taken aback.

"What?" he asked stupidly.

"Well, we are sharing this tent, are we not?" said Chekov.

"Uh, yes, yes, of course we are," Sulu said hurriedly. "I mean, if that's all right with you…"

Chekov shrugged noncommittally as he picked up the bag of tent materials and started to walk off towards the meadow. Confused, but grateful nonetheless, Sulu followed.

After a few minutes, they reached the rest of the group who were all busy setting up camp. Scotty's tent was already expertly pitched, and he was helping Uhura pound the stakes of her tent into the ground. He had at first been reluctant to abandon his beloved _Enterprise_ for shore leave, but when he heard that they were going to be camping, he immediately displayed a sense of gung-ho enthusiasm that even rivaled the Captain's adventurous spirit.

Kirk was halfway through pitching the tent when he noticed that Spock had sat down on the grass, his eyes closed and his fingers together. Bones was watching the Vulcan meditate with a sense of amusement. Amused and slightly irritated, Kirk set down his mallet and strolled over to his friends.

"You know that this tent is for the three of us, right?" Kirk said cordially.

Bones turned to look at Kirk. "Your point being?" he challenged.

"Well, usually everyone helps with pitching the tent," Kirk responded, still trying to be cordial.

"Oh, well, you were doing so well," Bones said smoothly, shrugging as he spoke. "I figured since you seemed to be enjoying yourself, I should just step back and watch."

Kirk smirked despite himself: Bones always made fun of his enthusiasm, yet he did so in a way that was never entirely rude, and always amusing. Kirk wanted to throw a zinging response back at him, but found himself stumped. That was the problem: Bones knew him too well.

"I've had my fun," he said, stepping forward to give Bones the mallet. "Your turn," he said playfully, and flopped down on the ground next to the meditating Vulcan. Spock raised an eyebrow, but did not open his eyes.

"What about him?" Bones said, pointing an accusatory finger at Spock. "Doesn't he do anything other than eat, sleep, be logical and meditate?"

Kirk sat up in the grass and looked at Spock. Spock had opened his eyes at this snide remark and started to stand up.

"I am not a valuable asset for setting up camp," he said simply. Kirk shrugged at Bones apologetically.

Bones let out an exasperated sigh. "Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a Boy Scout! I'm no good at this sort of thing." He stared at the discarded mallet for a moment and said with resignation, "Well, if the tent falls on us in the night, you only have yourself to blame," and began to pound in the last stake.

Chekov and Sulu had chosen to pitch their tent on a flat spot under some trees several meters away from the rest of the group. Though Chekov had less camping experience than Sulu, he helped set up the tent without much trouble and they were finished after only a few minutes. Sulu stood back to admire their handiwork.

"Not bad," he marveled with an awkward chuckle. Chekov nodded with a tentative half-smile, but didn't say anything. It was as though their disagreement had been temporarily suspended in order to build their shelter, but now that they had stopped working together, a sense of unease fell upon them again.

Sulu took a deep, calm breath as he looked out onto the meadows. He couldn't help but admit that the sight was soothing, inviting and beautiful. An idea suddenly struck him.

"Hey, Pavel," he said nonchalantly, "want to go down by the lake to relax?"

Chekov frowned and stared at the ground. "Not particularly," he said quietly. "I think I would prefer to stay here."

The feeling of discomfort between them deepened. Sulu knew that Chekov's rejection of his invitation meant that the time had come to address their past incident.

"Look," he said. "I've been thinking about what happened on the bridge the other day, and I realize now that you were only trying to keep me out of trouble. I want to thank you for that. And I'm sorry that I talked you into it in the first place. It was a reckless idea, and I shouldn't have gotten you involved."

Chekov still said nothing, but his expression seemed to soften slightly.

"We've gotten into worse scrapes before," Sulu continued, trying to sound reasonable. "It wouldn't have been half as fun if you weren't there."

Chekov smiled slightly. "It is all right," he said, giving in at last. "You did not mean anything by it. I realize that I did not give you a chance to say anything to the Captain, so I apologize for that. And for what I said in the elevator as well."

"Well, good, then," Sulu said with smile, glad that things were right with Chekov again but uneager to relive their exchange in the elevator and its particularly uncomfortable conclusion.

Chekov smiled back at him warmly. "So, what is it you were saying about relaxing by the water?" he asked.

"Yeah, I wanted to take a look at the lake over there. Are you coming?" Sulu asked hopefully.

"Of course," Chekov said.

As Sulu led the way to the lakeshore, he felt himself smiling with relief; perhaps this shore leave would be relaxing after all.


	3. Messing About in Boats

Chapter Three: Messing About in Boats

When Sulu and Chekov reached the lake, they were surprised to find that the rest of the _Enterprise _crew had also decided to relax by the water. Dr. McCoy and Spock were sitting several meters away from Kirk, Uhura and Scotty, who were making an enthusiastic attempt at fishing. The Captain was staring fiercely at the bobber at the end of his line as if he was trying to will the fish to bite.

"So how come _you're_ not fishing, Spock? Not _logical_ enough for you?" Dr. McCoy asked teasingly.

"No," Spock replied coolly, "if I intended to eat the fish I caught, I would find the activity perfectly logical. However, Doctor, as you know, Vulcans keep a vegetarian diet, and therefore it would be illogical to hunt for food that I have no intention of consuming."

McCoy's grin faded slightly, replaced by his typical scowl.

"Why are you not fishing, Doctor?" Spock inquired.

"What? Me? Fishing? Spock, you must be joking," McCoy chuckled.

"As you very well know by now, Doctor, the concept of humor is one that I do not comprehend," Spock said with a slight trace of irritation in his voice.

"Well, in any case, _I'm _not fishing because _I _don'twant to contract some sort of local parasitic disease and spend my shore leave vomiting fish remains."

Sulu had heard enough of Spock and McCoy's bickering on the _Enterprise _to know that this conversation was going nowhere fast. He walked over to Chekov, who was talking animatedly with Scotty.

"Hikaru," Chekov said cheerfully, "Mr. Scott says he can lend us his retractable fishing wessel and fishing rods so we can fish on the lake!"

Sulu stifled a grin at his friend's pronunciation of the word "vessel." Pavel's rather particular way of saying certain English words was one of the things about him that Sulu found endearing.

He glanced at Scotty, who also seemed a bit amused by what Chekov had said. "A boat? That's great, Pavel! Are you sure you don't mind, Scotty?"

"Of course not!" Scotty replied enthusiastically. "I'd be happy to let you lads take 'er for a spin. Let me just help you with your bait…"

He pulled out a jar of a lime-green, fish-scented sparkly substance, unscrewed the cap and began to apply a small ball of it to the hook at the end of Sulu's rod. "This stuff should do the trick!" he said.

Almost mesmerized by the bait's iridescence, Sulu said without thinking, "Now, if I were a trout, I'd bite that."

He looked up to see both Scotty and Chekov staring at him blankly.

"I mean…it's so shiny," Sulu explained lamely.

After a few minutes, Sulu and Chekov were ready to go. They hopped in the retractable canoe and Scotty pushed them out onto the lake. Sulu had the steering position in the back of the canoe, while Chekov sat in the front and helped him row. After a short time, they found themselves in the middle of the lake and decided to stop and drop their lines.

Sulu eagerly picked up his fishing rod and started to cast, but as he glanced up from his reel, he noticed Chekov staring blankly at the line dangling in his face. Sulu suddenly understood, and lowered his rod.

"Do you want me to show you how to cast?" he asked.

Chekov looked up at him with a relieved smile and nodded.

"Here, it's easy once you get the hang of it," Sulu said. Chekov listened and watched intently, determined to memorize Sulu's every movement so that he would not make a fool of himself when he tried to cast on his own.

"…And that's pretty much it," Sulu said. "The trick is to make sure you don't let go so quickly that your bait flops into the water too soon. And make sure you don't let go too late, either, or you'll have a lot of slack line."

"All right, I think I understand now," Chekov said. "Besides, ice-fishing was inwented in Siberia, so perhaps fishing is in my blood."

"Yeah, yeah, just cast already," Sulu said, giving Chekov a friendly cuff on the shoulder.

Chekov complied, and Sulu was pleased to see that he had taken well to his instruction and made a near perfect cast on his first attempt.

"Is that good?" Chekov asked anxiously.

"That was great, Pavel!" Sulu replied. "I'm delighted that you did so well on your first try!"

Chekov beamed back at him. "Well, let me see how well you do it, then."

Sulu flashed him a playful grin and turned his attention to his rod. He adjusted the line, put the rod back over his shoulder and drew his arms forward in one swift motion. However, he was surprised to see his bobber and bait splash into the water with an unceremonious _plunk_ only a meter or so away from their canoe.

"Is that all you've got, Hikaru?" Chekov asked teasingly. "Perhaps the teacher has become the student, no?"

"Hey, that was just practice. Let me try that again," Sulu said hurriedly, and turned to cast again. This time the line extended a good five meters away from him before the bait fell into the water.

Sulu was somewhat nonplussed. It wasn't that he'd never made a bad cast before; it happened all the time for a variety of reasons: the wind was too strong, he wasn't in a good position, he was distracted…

_I don't know what's wrong with me, _he closed his eyes tightly for a moment in an attempt to clear his head. _I _am _distracted, aren't I?_ he thought, suddenly flustered. _But by what? What's so distracting about fishing with Pavel?_

Sulu considered the situation. He was sitting back to back in the small canoe with his closest friend. The air was calm and everything was quiet, for they were well out of earshot of the rest of the camping party. He was alone with Chekov, and for some reason, that was enough to make him lose his concentration.

He looked over his shoulder at his friend, who was staring out at the water with a placid look. Every few minutes, he tugged at his line to feel for bites, just as Sulu had instructed.

_I'm alone with Chekov. So what? _he thought. _What's so strange about that? We're together all the time on the bridge…_

_But you're never alone there, _a nagging voice in his head countered.

_Well, we're alone other times…this shouldn't be any different._

Sulu and Chekov, Chekov and Sulu: on and off the _Enterprise,_ they had always been inseparable. Sulu trusted Chekov with everything, and he knew Chekov felt the same way. However, he understood now that his concern and affection for Chekov ran deeper than they would in a typical close friendship between Starfleet officers. He realized that there was a reason why he always felt _particularly_ glad whenever Pavel walked onto the bridge, that he was possibly a bit _too _charmed by his smile…

Something was different. As much as he wanted to ignore it or explain it away, Sulu knew that the way he felt about his friend had changed. He wasn't sure how long he'd felt this way; maybe since their fight before shore leave, maybe before that. Maybe he'd always had these feelings for Chekov, he couldn't be sure.

He remembered how worried he was when he thought he'd hurt Chekov by putting him in a bad position with the Captain, how much he wanted to make it right…_And that moment in the elevator, _Sulu thought, cringing inwardly at the embarrassing memory. _I should have realized…_ Sulu saw that there was no sense in making illusions about it at this point: he had some intense romantic feelings for Pavel Chekov.

_How could I be so dense? _he asked himself. _Why didn't I figure it out before I ended up alone in the middle of a lake with him? And sharing a tent with him on shore leave, no less._

He looked over his shoulder nervously again, and this time, Chekov caught his eye and gave him an encouraging grin.

"I have not felt any bites yet. How about you? Have you had any luck?" he asked cheerfully.

"Uh, no, not yet," Sulu replied, trying to match Chekov's upbeat tone.

"Well, maybe soon we will get something," Chekov said, smiling at him again.

Sulu felt a warm rush of affection for the other man, followed by intense anxiety. He smiled back at Chekov and turned away, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

_Damn,_ he thought. _This is going to be an interesting shore leave…_

But before Sulu could even check his line, Chekov started shouting.

"Oh! Hikaru! Hikaru, I think I've got something! A fish!" he exclaimed.

Sulu turned back to Chekov. "Really? Oh, wow! Reel in, Pavel! Keep reeling in!"

"I'm reeling, I'm reeling!" Chekov said excitedly. From what Sulu could tell, Chekov had caught something big. The rod was beginning to arch down with the strain, though Chekov was reeling as fast as he could.

"You can do it, Pavel! Come on!" Sulu said, moving closer to Chekov in the canoe.

Chekov continued to reel in vigorously, his rod straining against the strength of the fish. He started to crouch in the canoe with one foot on his seat to reel in from a better angle. Sulu moved even closer, putting a hand on his arm to steady him. He was suddenly very aware of their proximity.

"I think I got it! I think I got the fish!" Chekov yelled, and Sulu saw that he was right: a large rainbow trout suddenly surfaced, attached to Chekov's line.

But just when Chekov had almost reeled the flopping, struggling trout all the way in, his foot slipped on the seat and he tripped on the edge of the canoe, causing him to fall head first into the lake. Though the canoe rocked dangerously, Sulu managed to stay in the canoe with Chekov's rod and the thrashing trout.

Sulu was about to laugh at the spectacle of Chekov flailing in the lake until he realized that he didn't know if he could swim.

"Are you okay, Pavel?" he called out. "Can you swim?"

"I can only dog-paddle!" he spluttered. "Help me!"

"Hold on, I'll get you!" Sulu pulled off his jacket and dove into the water, realizing that if he pulled Chekov into the canoe while he was still in it, it would capsize.

He swam over to Chekov in a few swift strokes and grabbed him by the shoulders. "I've got you, don't worry," he gasped. Chekov only latched tightly onto his arm in response, clearly terrified.

If Sulu hadn't been so concerned with getting Chekov out of the frigid water, this sudden, close contact with him would have been a pleasant, if not somewhat uncomfortable experience. He tightened his grasp on Chekov's torso and began to swim back to the canoe in a belabored, awkward fashion, always being careful to keep Chekov's head above water.

"Here," Sulu said, breathing heavily as they reached the canoe. "I'll hold it steady while you climb in. Be careful not to tip it over, we don't want to lose your fish after all of this." Chekov smiled despite himself, and carefully climbed into the canoe.

"Are you all right?" Sulu asked.

"Fine," Chekov replied, completely soaked and somewhat out of breath. "I'm fine, thanks to you." He smiled weakly at Sulu. "I am sorry I did not mention that I cannot swim, it was stupid of me to forget."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're all right," Sulu said. "I was worried about you for a moment there."

"Aren't you coming back into the boat, too?" Chekov asked.

Sulu thought for a moment, and realized that there was no way he could get himself back into the canoe without capsizing it and sending Chekov and his trout straight back into the water.

"No, I'll tip you over if I try. I'll just swim back to shore, and you can row the canoe. I think we've had enough excitement for one day, don't you?" Chekov smiled and nodded. His hair drenched and plastered to his forehead and his clothing was dripping and disheveled, but that smile got to Sulu the way it always did.

He took a deep breath and started swimming towards the shore with Chekov close behind.


	4. A Rousing Campfire

_Authors' Note: This should've been mentioned earlier on, but this story takes place during the first 5-year mission, not during the era of Star Trek V: The Final Frontier. In our minds, it is this shore leave that inspires Kirk to climb El Capitain later!_

Chapter Four

The fact that Kirk had been able to successfully start a fire without his phaser was something seriously worth celebrating. Kirk was beaming, admiring his handiwork. McCoy shook his head, amused by Kirk's pride at accomplishing such a basic task. Spock seemed lost in thought as he gazed transfixed at the crackling flames. Scotty was laughing with Uhura at his own joke, but Sulu had not heard the punch line. Despite his own silence, Sulu felt at peace with his friends in this unfamiliar environment. He looked to his right to give Chekov a friendly smile, only to see him wrapped in a blanket, holding a plate full of fish bones and looking slightly sulky.

"What's the matter, Chekov?" Kirk asked playfully as he noticed Chekov in his blanket. "Still cold from your little swim earlier?"

The circle laughed, recalling the image of Sulu and Chekov stomping through the meadow, sopping wet and carrying a wriggling fish.

Sulu grimaced slightly with embarrassment. Perhaps only a few months ago, the scene would have been hilarious to Sulu, but now it was simply a memory of emotional conflict. While he had felt sorry for Chekov and his damaged ego, Sulu could not help but pay attention to the way Chekov's wet clothes clung to him and how strangely adorable it was to see his bowl cut plastered to his face. He'd withheld the urge to reach up and brush Chekov's bangs away from his face. Instead, he loyally carried Chekov's fish and followed him to the tent to change into dry clothes.

"Nonsense. I am Russian," Chekov replied indignantly. "This is nothing." Kirk simply smiled.

"Well, at least we were able to hold onto our fish without cheating," Sulu said defensively.

Kirk's grin faded slightly. Kirk had told the campfire circle earlier about how he and Scotty had struggled to hold onto the small, slippery trout he had caught, only to scramble frantically on his hands and knees after the fish had fallen out of his hands. The fish had flopped along the shore and almost reached the lake, when it was stopped just in time by Spock's Vulcan pinch. At the time, the event was presented as a humorous anecdote, but now Kirk realized that the story was being turned against him.

"Using the Vulcan isn't cheating," Scotty retorted. "It's being resourceful!"

Everyone chuckled, letting the sound of the fire wash over them in a slightly awkward silence.

"So, what do we do now?" Uhura asked the group.

"What do you mean?" Sulu asked, slightly confused.

"Well, we have our campfire. What do people usually do at a campfire?"

"They tell ghost stories, lassie!" Scotty said cheerfully. The atmosphere around the fire became eager and excited. Chekov sat up a little straighter, wrapping the blanket around him even more tightly. Everyone looked to Scotty, ready for a fantastic tale. Spock, however, looked confused.

"Ghost stories, Mr. Scott?"

"You know, Mr. Spock! Haunted places, ghosts and ghouls? Tales from the black abyss!" Scotty's eyes grew wide and he drew his face closer to the flames for dramatic effect. Spock looked unimpressed.

"These stories are told in order to create a frightening atmosphere?" he questioned.

"Aye, that they are!" Scotty said cheerfully.

"But how can—" Spock began.

"Spock. Let him tell the story," Kirk kindly interrupted his friend. Spock closed his mouth, looked at Kirk, and then folded his arms, ready to listen.

Scotty recognized that all eyes were on him, and Sulu could tell that he was enjoying the attention. The engineer rose from his seat and began to sweep the circle.

"This is the tale," he began in a harsh whisper, "of a Starfleet crew, not much unlike you all sitting here, and their encounter with the most frightening menace of this galaxy. The crew of the USS _Farragut _was a solid, brilliant crew—"

"The _Farragut_?" Sulu interrupted without thinking. "Well, they deserve whatever's coming to them for piloting that piece of tin."

"Yeah, I know it's a waste of a ship, lad," Scotty replied, temporarily forgetting the story. "Can you believe they upgraded that ship rather than ours? I mean, it's a miracle it gets off the ground—"

"Mr. Scott," Kirk said, smiling.

"Hm?" Scotty looked at Kirk, confused.

"Your story? You were just getting started."

"Oh," he replied, betraying his disappointment at having to move away from shop-talk, "right, where was I? Oh yes, the _Farragut._ They were a brave crew, and had faced many trials before. But as courageous as they were, nothing they had faced could have prepared them for…"

Scotty trailed off and looked up at his crewmates. Uhura was clutching at a blanket and staring up at him, her eyes widened with anticipation. Kirk and Dr. McCoy seemed equally interested, and even Spock had raised one eyebrow. Somehow Chekov had ended up sitting very close to Sulu, shoulders touching.

"…_the haunting of their lives!_" Scotty resumed his storytelling after a lengthy dramatic pause. "Starfleet had assigned the _Farragut_ to patrol the neutral zone. Things were going as planned, when one day, some of the crewmen reported strange happenings. One of the yeomen in Engineering had heard a mysterious purring sound…but when he checked the machines, he realized they were operating under normal conditions. But the purring got_ louder…_and_ louder…_but there was nothing he could do to stop it! Then, all of a sudden, the purring turned into a loud _screech_…and then all was silent."

"But Scotty," Kirk interrupted. His tone was kind, yet one of skepticism. "We encounter things like this all of the time."

"_Captain," _Scotty replied, exasperated, "I assure you we haven't – fortunately." He grinned in the firelight, restoring the creepy atmosphere. Kirk shrugged, reclining in order to listen once more.

"As I was saying," Scotty continued, "the yeoman asked his commanding officer in Engineering if he had heard the noise, but he had not heard a thing. He then went straight to the Captain to report what had happened. But his Captain was a proud, arrogant man, and did not listen." He shot a smug look at Kirk, who folded his arms haughtily. "After that, were quiet enough on the _Farragut_…for a time. A week later, another Engineering officer heard the sound again, ending with a gut-wrenching screech, just like before. But what he did not know was that at that exact same on the other side of the ship, a patient in sickbay was listening to the _exact same noise._ The Captain was warned again, but he still did nothing.

"From that point on, crew members from all parts of the ship came to him at the same time every day, each telling him the same tale of the mysterious screech. His First Officer begged him to do something about it, but he refused. 'Hah,' he said, 'the crew of the _Farragut_ isn't about to be scared away by a little noise!' But the crew became more and more uneasy, and reports of the noise were increasing. Still, the arrogant Captain refused to report it to Starfleet.

"One night, the Captain retired to his quarters very late, long after the rest of the crew had left their posts. He was just about ready to go to sleep and was reading a technical journal, my favorite one, in fact! It's the one with the article about the—"

"Scotty!" Uhura exclaimed, giving him an impatient look.

"I'm _getting_ to it, lassie! Anyway, he was enjoying the journal when all at once, he heard a soft _purring. _He ignored it at first, but it continued, slowly getting _louder_… and _louder_… Suddenly, the Captain felt a chill down to his very bones as he remembered his crewmen's stories of the ghastly purring. As he sat there in bed, the purring got worse and worse until he could feel the walls of his quarters shaking with the force of the sound. He began to feel something soft crawling up his arms very, very slowly…to his shoulders, to his neck, and then to his face. And then, the horrible purring rose into a blood-curdling _screech! _However, it was not just _one_ screech, but hundreds, maybe thousands of infernal screams from the beyond shaking the walls of the little room! When the Captain could not bear the noise any longer, he felt something soft and furry covering his mouth. He tried and tried to wrench it away from his face, but he couldn't grab onto anything. Yet, he still felt as if his mouth was covered, and he couldn't breathe. He struggled and fought against it, but the ghostly, furry thing would not go away, and the screeching was getting louder and louder.

"The next morning, his first officer found him dead in his quarters, apparently suffocated by nothing. But in truth, the Captain was the victim…of the _ghosts of poisoned tribbles, exacting their gruesome revenge on Starfleet!"_

As Scotty spoke, the fire popped loudly, unleashing a shower of hot sparks that littered the campfire like an onslaught of tribbles. Uhura gasped, caught between genuine terror and a hint of laughter. Kirk smiled; clearly the story was Scotty's way of providing social commentary. He gave McCoy a smile of approval and McCoy copied it, looking at Scotty. Spock sat next to McCoy, apparently asleep. Affronted, Scotty scowled and turned to look at Chekov, who was clutching Sulu's arm for dear life; Sulu looked startled, but strangely pleased.

Once upon a happier time, Sulu would have laughed at the climax to Scotty's story, but the engineer had chosen the tale wisely: the crew had only recently escaped those poisoned tribbles. Sulu could still recall that high-pitched shriek that the infernal animals made when a Klingon was nearby. The critters had been brought on supposedly because they were cute, but everyone had learned very quickly just how terrifying they were when they multiplied. Although Sulu wouldn't the first one to admit it, Scotty's story made tribbles even scarier.

_At least I don't show my fear, _Sulu thought gratefully. He looked at Chekov with disbelief. His friend looked small and pale, and clearly terrified by Scotty's story. Sulu felt his arm throbbing from Chekov's firm grip.

Biting his lip, Sulu gently pried Chekov's hand away from his arm and guided it to the ground. His pulse quickened as he kept his hand on top of Chekov's. He wanted to do something more: put his arm around him, lean on Chekov's shoulder, but he was grounded by his hand on top of Chekov's in the dirt of the meadow.

Chekov's mind was racing. The image of ghostly tribbles, floating around the bridge, shrieking and suffocating his comrades was nearly unbearable. The sound of purring blended with screaming in his mind and he felt consumed by his imagination.

He was suddenly pulled into the present by the sensation of warm fingers on top of his own that were guiding his hand to the dirt. The image of floating tribbles seemed to dissipate. He stared at the ground, feeling slightly foolish for reacting so dramatically to Scotty's story.

The firelight illuminated the image of his hand underneath someone else's hand… Sulu's hand. Sulu, his best friend. He knew that most of the crew enjoyed teasing him and making jokes at his expense, but Sulu was always there for him. He was never cruel – in fact, Sulu was the only one who defended him.

Gratefulness washed over him, and he attempted to convey his feelings as he looked his friend in the eye. Sulu caught Chekov's gaze and smiled slightly. Chekov felt his face flush, but he did not look away.

There was something inviting about Sulu's expression. There was warmth there and comfort that he had always taken for granted. That look was so familiar to him, and yet now it felt different.

No, _he_ felt different. What was happening to him? Scared by furry tribbles and comforted beyond belief by the simple touch of Sulu's hand! The world was an absurd and confusing place, and this small physical contact with Sulu was making things much more complex_. _

_But it shouldn't be; it's just Sulu,_ he thought. _But it is, _he countered. It was an overwhelming prospect. _What is different? _

He recalled the past several months and every incident with Sulu he could remember. Flashes of sitting at the control panel came to the forefront of his mind; the feeling of surprise when their hands bumped each other on the control panel; the sidelong glances Sulu always gave him when Captain Kirk laughed at his own jokes; the ordeal in the elevator as Sulu slammed the stop button; Sulu hoisting him back into the canoe. His face flushed again with that last memory, and suddenly Chekov realized: somehow, in a way he probably would never understand, he had fallen for his best friend. The idea was simultaneously awkward and fitting. The words were unfamiliar, but the feelings made sense - as if they had always been there.

"Well, I think we ought to be getting to sleep," Kirk's voice brought Chekov back from the depths of his thoughts. Sulu jumped slightly and Chekov felt the top of his hand become cold as Sulu pulled away. Everyone else nodded sleepily. Scotty gave a thespian bow and departed. Uhura rose from her seat and followed suit.

Sulu got up, and let out a long yawn, stretching as he walked. He had walked several meters when he stopped and turned around to call after Chekov.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

"Hm? Oh, right," Chekov responded quietly. Half-dazed, he stood up and wrapped his blanket around him, trudging to catch up to Sulu. He suddenly felt awkward as he fell in step with his friend. _Forget it, _he told himself_. He's just a friend._ _He hasn't changed, just you, so forget it. Forget it._

"Come on," Sulu said as Chekov reached him, "let's go for a walk."

Chekov nodded, determined to ignore the arguing thoughts in his head. He followed Sulu as he led him into the black of the night, leaving McCoy, Spock and Kirk in their wake.


	5. Stargazing

Chapter Five

Chekov shivered slightly as he followed Sulu back to the tent. He was still slightly spooked from Mr. Scott's tale – or perhaps it was because he had been holding Sulu's hand back at the campfire? Chekov shook his head vigorously and wrapped his blanket around him like a cape.

He wanted to tell himself that the idea was preposterous, but as he looked at Sulu's back silhouetted by the stars and moonlight, his sentiment changed. It was liberating to admit to himself that he had fallen for Sulu; as though a weight had been lifted from his chest. Yet as he walked on, the weight was replaced by anxiety: what should he do? Would Sulu ever see him in that way? It was overwhelming to think about.

"It's beautiful out, isn't it?" Sulu said, gazing up as he walked. Chekov followed his gaze and caught a glimpse of a comet shooting across the sky. He understood: Sulu was feeling restless, too. Shore leave was a luxury he embraced, but Chekov knew that their first home was among the stars.

"Yes, yes it is," he quietly agreed. He wanted to say something more to ensure that the conversation would continue, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Chekov lowered his head to watch his feet move rhythmically through the weeds. At long last, they reached the tent. Relieved, and feeling a bit sleepy, Chekov dropped to the ground to crawl into the tent. His blanket that was draped over his back slid forward, blindfolding him.

"Hey, look at that!" Sulu suddenly said excitedly, tapping Chekov on the back.

"Hmm, look at what?" Chekov said, scrambling blindly backwards out of the tent.

"Just look at the stars," Sulu said quietly, tapping Chekov more firmly with impatience. Chekov obliged, throwing the blanket around him once more. He sat on the ground, his hands supporting his weight as he leaned back. Sulu sat down next to him, leaning back on his elbows and not at all bothered by the cold air.

"You can't see this from San Francisco! It's almost miraculous," Sulu said. Chekov could tell he was thinking aloud. "It's a miracle that we get to travel out there. We visit so many places. It's nice to be able to look up every once in a while and say, 'I know those stars. I went there once.' How many people get to say that?"

Chekov nodded, taking in Sulu's words; Sulu was not one for philosophic monologues. Chekov understood that he was witness to something private, almost religious. He closed his eyes, letting the words reverberate in his memory.

"Not many," he agreed. He looked over at his friend and smiled. "It is something to marvel at," he added. Sulu grinned, returning his gaze. His face was illuminated by dim moonlight, making his eyes glisten slightly. Chekov knew he should look away, but he could only smile back.

"We've really seen it all, haven't we?" Sulu said, still looking at Chekov.

"Yeah," Chekov replied, adjusting his gaze back to the sky. He scrutinized the darkness above him, mapping the constellations.

"That is Ursa Minor, is it not?" he asked, pointing to its location. Sulu followed Chekov's gesture, frowning slightly in thought.

"I suppose it is," he said. "And that," he pointed to Chekov's left, "is the Big Dipper. The famous North Star is part of its handle."

"The North Star was discovered by a Russian," Chekov said before he could stop himself. Sulu chuckled.

"For you, Pavel, everything was discovered in Russia." Chekov grinned sheepishly. They fell into comfortable silence, looking out into the vast night sky. Sulu shivered slightly, but tried to hide the fact from his friend. Chekov had seen the movement. He offered part of the blanket to Sulu who hesitated for a moment, but took it graciously.

"Thanks," he said, sitting up to pull the blanket tightly across his shoulders.

"But of course," Chekov grinned, sitting up as well so that they could sit comfortably under the blanket.

"If only you could see the Northern Lights from here," Sulu sighed.

"Have you ever wisited them?" Chekov asked curiously. Sulu shook his head sadly.

"You would think that I would go to every spot on my home planet before venturing off, but I guess I never got around to it. Have you?"

Chekov shrugged. Earth natural monuments and phenomena had never really interested him. "Maybe someday."

"Maybe someday," Sulu agreed. They lapsed into silence again, lost in the constellations. Chekov could hear the crickets chirping around them and the wind rustling softly in the grass. It was a reminder that they were isolated from the rest of the crew and the rest of the world.

"You know what?" Sulu said, turning to look Chekov in the eye.

"What, Hikaru?" Chekov replied.

"We should visit the Northern Lights. Together. When we retire from Starfleet, we'll travel Earth. We've traveled everywhere else together, so why not?"

Chekov could not help but chuckle; Sulu proved once again that underneath his grounded exterior, he was filled with flights of fancy.

"Whatever you say, Hikaru," he said, brushing away the proposition.

"I'm serious!" Sulu said indignantly. Chekov blinked and swallowed nervously. "If I'm going to go, I'm going to go with you."

Chekov was flabbergasted. "I – I suppose – I mean, if I am not assigned to-"

But his rationalizing was cut off by the presence of Sulu's hand on the side of his face and Sulu's lips gently resting on his own. Chekov's eyes remained open for a moment, his brain frantically processing what was going on. He could feel Sulu's thumb brushing his cheek gently – Sulu's whole action was kind and embracing.

Acting on sheer impulse, Chekov closed his eyes and kissed him back. He thought of the elevator, of Sulu's hand on his shoulder, of the stars above them now that always welcomed them, of the friendship that he had had with Sulu from the very beginning.

He felt the blanket fall from their shoulders, and he blindly reached for it again, taking it with him as he wrapped his arms around Sulu. The blanket enveloped them, and Chekov savored this fleeting moment which he had thought, only minutes before, would only manifest itself in a dream. Cocooned, they fell onto the meadow floor and rolled slightly, but neither one noticed. Sulu had a hand in Chekov's hair, which was now covered in burrs from the dirt; Chekov could feel dew settling in his clothes, but it didn't matter.

After a while, they broke apart. Chekov's face was inches from Sulu's – he could feel Sulu's breath on his face, and he broke into a smile.

"We should probably get some sleep now," Chekov said, immediately regretting the suggestion. Sulu bit his lip in thought.

"Let's just stay out here," he said softly. "Here," and he turned over, adjusting himself so that he was facing away from Chekov. Chekov scooted closer to Sulu, wrapping his arms around his torso and resting his chin on Sulu's shoulder.

"Good night," Sulu's voice sounded slightly muffled, but peaceful. Chekov ran his hand down Sulu's side, taking in the feel of the cloth and the warmth of his skin.

"Good night."

The campfire was still crackling and fizzling with its confetti-like sparks as Bones and Spock got up to return to the tent. Kirk remained by the fireside for a moment alone. As he gazed up into the night sky and its inviting stars, he wished he was back on the Enterprise. Then cold air filled his lungs, bringing him back to Earth with a sense of calm.

Slowly, he arose from his spot by the fire and began to walk back to his tent. He watched as Bones held the tent flap back for Spock, and Kirk's two friends vanished into the tent. Something about the way they entered the tent together made Kirk take pause. Making the decision to stay out in the fresh air a while longer, he wandered past the tent and flopped himself down on the meadow.

The fire's glow illuminated the tent, creating shadow-like projections of the tent's interior. Kirk could see his friends talking, like a silent puppet show. Sighing, Kirk lied down on the grass and let his mind wander.

"What'd you think of the campfire?" Bones asked Spock as he held the canopy flap open for Spock. Spock crawled through, got to his sleeping bag and sat on it, cross-legged.

"I found that the atmosphere seemed to be welcoming and relaxing to the human nervous system," Spock observed.

"I meant Mr. Scott's story, Spock," Bones smirked. He had somehow figured that Spock would not have understood his casual question. "What'd you think of it?"

Bones had crawled through the tent's opening and sat on his own sleeping bag at the head of the tent. Their tent was close enough to the campfire that he could see Spock's face very clearly. Although he hated to admit it, the Vulcan's features were easy on the eyes. The pointed ears and high cheekbones which were frequently the objects of his derision glowed yellow in the firelight. Despite the years they had spent together, always teasing, always arguing, Bones suddenly found himself drawn to the other man.

Spock paused, processing the story. "I believe that its plotline is entirely illogical and therefore, is something that should not invoke fear."

"Oh, c'mon Mr. Spock," Bones rolled his eyes. "You're telling me that it didn't at least _entertain _you?" Spock raised an eyebrow.

"It was entertaining, Doctor," he confessed. "It is logical that a good story has an entertaining element to it."

"But you didn't have fun?" Bones asked, obviously attempting to invoke Spock's human feelings.

"I am unfamiliar with the human emotion of 'having fun'," Spock said matter-of-factly, furrowing his eyebrows in an attempt to comprehend the concept.

"I think that's where you're wrong, Mr. Spock," Bones said, leaning towards Spock so that the Vulcan could see the sly smile that was playing across his face. "I think you enjoyed it, but you don't want to admit it." He straightened up, resuming his position atop his sleeping bag in order to watch the effects of his words.

"What would be the purpose of my admitting to a particular human emotion, Doctor?" Spock asked, betraying a human sense of irritation.

"Well, you'd be proving the point of the whole exercise, Mr. Spock," Bones shrugged nonchalantly.

"You do not need a confession of human emotion from me, Doctor, in order to prove that ghost stories can be effective," Spock responded.

"Oh, I don't?" Bones said, leaning in again. He was suddenly very close to Spock, inches from his face. He sensed a tension between the two of them which had not been there before, and it wasn't just because of their close proximity.

"Well, it's fun to try, anyway," he said quietly. It could've been the firelight, but Bones thought that Spock looked slightly taken aback.

"Meaning what, Doctor?" he asked, his voice sounding slightly threatening. Bones kept his face inches from Spock's – there was a strange thrill in keeping Spock on his toes like this.

"Meaning that I find it entertaining to see you squirm and try to deny the fact that you're half-human," Bones declared.

Spock shook his head. "I'm not trying to deny anything, Doctor."

"I believe you are, Spock," Bones challenged.

"And what would that be, Doctor?" Spock could feel Bones' breath on his face, but he did not falter or back away.

"That you have emotional needs just like any other human being, Spock," Bones said, slightly enraged, "and that you want those needs to be met somehow. But you're afraid to admit it," he poked Spock hard in the chest. "You're afraid of what you can't control because, Spock, emotions are not logical!"

"So what if I have these… emotional needs, Doctor?" Spock challenged, his voice low with resentment. "You do not gain anything by knowing that the dichotomy of human emotion and Vulcan logic is something that has always existed within me."

"Spock! I gain understanding!" He put his hand on Spock's shoulder as a sign of comfort. Spock looked at Bones' hand, thinking about the pressure it created against his skin. He could sense the tension and, possibly, fear within Bones' muscles, but he could not understand where these feelings were coming from. He looked back at Bones: the doctor's eyes were wide and serious, piercing him like an X-ray.

"I'm a doctor," Bones continued, his voice calmer and quieter now. "And I'm your friend. That's what I do: help you to understand."

"I do not require your help," Spock said, looking at his knees. "I only require that you—"

"Spock," Bones interrupted. Although he had cut across Spock's speech, his voice was soft and comforting.

"Yes, Doctor?" Spock said, looking up once more.

"Yes, you do."

It happened in a flash: he was closing his eyes and closing the gap between his face and Spock's. His lips were suddenly on Spock's and although the Vulcan didn't pull away, he didn't exactly reciprocate the movement either. Bones' mind was flooded with confusing, contradictory thoughts urging him forward and pulling him back. _Ah, forget it, _Bones dismissed his thoughts and let his body take over – perhaps a bit too strongly. He pushed Spock back onto his sleeping bag and the two of them were caught in this illogical embrace.

Bones at last broke the embrace, holding himself up over Spock, who lay on the ground looking bemused.

"Doctor?" Spock asked quietly. Although Spock rarely smiled, Bones saw the ends of his lips purse themselves slightly. Bones knew this was a rhetorical proposal of sorts, but he felt compelled to say something.

"Spock," he responded in a low voice. There was a moment's pause as the two of them looked at each other, waiting for their feelings to catch up with their actions. The fire crackled outside the tent.

"You were speaking about the concept of understanding: I believe I understand you now," Spock said quietly. His voice seemed compassionate and more emotional than Bones had ever heard it before.

"Understand me?" Bones was surprised. "This was an attempt to understand you, Spock!"

Spock shook his head. "I mean that I understand your motives: this was simply a logical way to let you demonstrate, Doctor, the concept of human passion as a source of—"

"'Demonstrate?'" Bones was irritated again. "Spock, for once in your life shut up and accept the fact that you _felt _something!"

Again, Spock shook his head. "Accepting it is not what is troubling me," he admitted. "I am conflicted by the concept of emotional expression. I do not understand how to reply to what you have just expressed."

Bones let this process in his brain for a moment, staring down at Spock. "Well," he said, grinning sheepishly. His hand rested on the side of Spock's face. "You could try kissing back," he said, and he leaned into Spock's face once more…

Kirk's stargazing was interrupted as he heard rustling coming from his tent. He sat up, rubbed his eyes and saw the silhouettes of Bones and Spock drawing uncharacteristically close to each other. The sounds of Spock's sleeping bag being jostled against the ground and deep intakes of breath made Kirk's heart jump slightly. He scrutinized the two figures as Bones seemed to fall on top of Spock. Kirk could only begin to process what had just happened when Spock's arms wrapped their way around Bones' back. He felt indignant, possibly slightly betrayed, too, but not for the reasons he had expected. Somehow, it made perfect sense to him that his two best friends who seemed to hate each other were actually attracted to one another. That, in its own right, was entirely logical. No, what irked Kirk was that he was sitting here, alone and utterly clueless. At least Bones could've told him that he'd been honing feelings for Spock!

He was now resolute to go into the tent and just separate the two. As he sat there, however, he recognized a sense of jealousy intermingled with his anger and betrayal. Perhaps he wished it was he who Spock was kissing rather than Bones? He wanted to be able to laugh at the idea, but he couldn't find the humor in the thought. He was suddenly reminded of something Spock had once said, "Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." He had taken it from Sherlock Holmes, of course – but what did that matter? What really mattered was the truth: he was jealous of Spock – or was it Bones? It was all so complicated…

Sighing with defeat, he watched as his two friends resembled one figure in the firelight, feeling strangely alone.


End file.
